


Clint Has a Cult Following and His Stream Discovers He Has a Boyfriend

by dendrite_blues



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Coming Out, Fans, M/M, Twitch - Freeform, fanmail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 10:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendrite_blues/pseuds/dendrite_blues
Summary: Written for theMCU Kink Meme on Dreamwidth.prompt: Clint is the Average Joe of the team, a real human with no insane powers or armour, and he isn’t in the spotlight often, but the team has gotten used to his extremely dedicated fan following, who write letters and send dumb gifts (pizza shirts, handmade purple mugs, knitted hats and stuffed versions of himself...) and he adores them, rambles about them on social media.So he starts dating Bucky, which of course gets out, and Bucky is shocked to find the gifts start being matched sets, the fans taking to him so fast it makes his head spin, and he’s just so happy???Just... Clint’s fans appreciate his choice in boyfriends and want the best for both of them.





	Clint Has a Cult Following and His Stream Discovers He Has a Boyfriend

"Alright, is my feed good?" Clint asks the webcam.  
  
Messages explode in the chat, too fast to read. The consensus seems to be yes. He sets his camera on the stand and sits cross legged on the big communal couch. Jarvis helpfully displays his chat feed nice and big on the TV and the speakers ding for a solid thirty seconds with the usual donations and subscriptions.  
  
"Aw, thanks guys, damn look at all those givers. For you newbies to the channel, I donate all the money I get from this stream to worthy causes. This month's charity is Child Find of America. They look for lost kids, abducted kids, and runaways like yours truly. Really great charity, I've met them a couple times. So thanks, thank you Hawkguy007, Clints_girl, JuaquimSym, liannata, MoolaMan, hot4hawk, ahhh I think that's pronounced Neera?...Sorry if I'm butchering these names."  
  
A wave of his channel's special arrow in the heart emotes whip over the TV, and he smiles.  
  
"Anyway, let's get to it shall we?"

Using his handheld remote he widens the camera lens to show the whole room instead of just his torso. The expansive sectional is covered in black trash bags full of fan mail. Thor's doofy grin fills the stream, his highest tier emote lovingly christened "godchamp."  
  
"Happy Clint-mas, guys! Geez, I dunno where to start." he laughs, ripping open the nearest bag and dumping out a big pile of boxes and envelopes.  
  
Most of his streams are just him talking about nothing while he fucks around in Minecraft, he honestly doesn't know why people even watch. He doesn't think he's all that witty. The fan letters claim he's inspiring, fighting big monsters with nothing but a bow and arrow. Some focus on his looks, but others talk about debilitating illnesses and cite his hearing aids as a point of admiration. He doesn't see why they think his hearing holds him back, if anything it’s the whole reason his sight is so good, but if it helps them get through their own treatments and therapies then he's happy to let sleeping dogs lie.  
  
All the attention and gifts used to make him uncomfortable, so many people pinning their hopes and dreams on this idealized image of him. He'd maybe gone off the deep end one day, throwing teddy bears and balling up crappy crayon portraits. Couldn't these crazies see he's an imposter following the real heroes around? Steve could literally scale a cliff with his pinkies, why should anyone admire Clint? All he has are a plucky attitude and a weakness for maple bacon donuts, he's not a fucking idol.  
  
Then Bucky dragged him to the nearest dive bar and pointed at the signed photos of sports players and the lovingly framed jerseys. Told him how he'd sneak into the neighborhood bar and hide under the tables as a kid so he could listen to the baseball commentators on the radio. With rapt fascination Clint listened as Bucky reminisced about the good ole days when he would drag Steve to the vacant lot down the street to practice his swing and dream of being an All-Star with a huge house in the suburbs. When the world lets people down, apparently they need someone to believe in.   
  
Since then Clint's been happy to encourage the fanaticism, if only so he can turn their adoration towards more worthy causes. With a pair of dull scissors he awkwardly opens the first several boxes and shows off the gifts. A hand knitted beanie with a target on the front, a slightly misshapen purple mug, and a shirt that says _'I just came for the pizza.'_  
  
"You guys are so creative, look at this!" He pulls the hat on with only slightly exaggerated delight. "I mean how awesome is this? You've got a talent. And this mug, definitely gotta use this for our next 24 hour stream. I bet I can get four shots in here."  
  
It goes on like that as he steadily works through two more trash bags. His fans really are insanely generous. One of them sent honest to god kevlar armor that fits him like a glove. Obviously it has nothing on Stark's gear, but the note references the bullet he caught in their last fight with Doom and it hits him in the gut how much these people care about him.  
  
He's ready to label the stream another successful Clint-mas when he slices open the last box and instead of the usual cross-stitch pillows and poorly rendered fanart it's a pair of little stuffed toys with big, cute eyes. One is clearly supposed to be him, blonde yarn hair cut short with his signature shit eating grin. But the other...the other is Bucky.  
  
Hit so suddenly by surprise and gratitude, he just stares into the box with his mouth open like an idiot. The messages on the TV fly by in a torrent of _"What's in the box?" "Are you okay?" "What is it, what is it?"_  
  
Speechless, he looks up at the camera and back down at the handsome little bastards. Whoever sent them made a cozy nest in the bottom of the box out of purple flannel and tiny stuffed pillows. There's a note.  
  
"Dear Clint," he reads, clearing his throat when his voice starts to sound weepy. "I work at a restaurant in Manhattan. Last week you came in with your boyfriend and I was so nervous I had to trade your table. You two were so cute together. The entire waitstaff gossiped about you in the kitchen. I could barely focus on work! You should keep him, you looked like you were really into each other. Will you tell us his name? Signed Emily."  
  
Blinking fast, he swallows down a wave of feelings and lifts the adorable little dolls out of the box. They are expertly made, with big heads and skinny noodle arms stitched together in neat, straight seams.  
  
"Oh no, I love them." he says, getting way too emotional over a couple of dolls. He hugs them, a big smile breaking over his face. "Thank you Emily, these are rad as fuck."  
  
If the chat was a fast moving stream before, it's a white water rapid after he reads the letter. Nothing more than a blur of emotes and all-caps reactions. He sits the dolls on either side of his crossed legs and scratches the back of his neck in belated embarrassment.  
  
"Well his name is Bucky. Yes,  _that_  Bucky. And yes, we technically met in prison." Clint laughs, enjoying the flood of suggestive emotes. "But only cause he was breakin' me out. Water under the bridge now, as you all know."  
  
With the remote he scans up the chat log so he can actually read it, and he's stunned to find unanimous support. Not a troll in the bunch. It's just a wall of well wishes and fangirls squealing. His chest feels tight.  
  
"Wow, you really like him? I thought you all might be jealous and chase him with sticks."  
  
A wall of no. Clint laughs, doesn't feel like he can possibly explain how their support makes him feel. Fortunately he doesn't have to. Back in the atrium the elevator dings and Bucky calls out a hello.  
  
"Well, thanks for tuning in everyone, but I think we're out of packages." he says regretfully. "Let's see how much you all raised this month."  
  
Pulling up his donation page, Clint checks the total amount.  
  
"Hot damn you guys, you out did yourselves. Eleven million. That’s million with an M. Six zeroes. Holy cow."  
  
Bucky calls again, and the chat lights up with godchamps.  
  
"In here! Fair warning, I'm live right now." Clint answers, looking over the back of the couch. His boyfriend sets a shopping bag on the counter and kicks off his boots.  
  
"Oh." Bucky says, verbose as ever.  
  
"Look what I've got." he says, holding the dolls up. Bucky's face is priceless, eyebrows high and lips parted in surprise.  
  
"Wow."  
  
"I know, right?" Clint chuckles, knowing that the camera will only capture Bucky from the waist down. A fine view, in his opinion. "Welp, good night all. I'm gonna grab some grub with my number one fan. Peace!"  
  
He flicks off the stream, and spends a couple seconds reveling in the affronted messages and pleas for him to put Bucky on cam. Maybe he will, if Bucky wants to, but not right now.  
  
"Did they take it well?" Bucky asks, leaning down for a quick kiss.  
  
"I'm afraid they're gonna leave me for you." Clint jokes, kissing back and fumbling to kneel on the sofa so he can get a better angle. His boyfriend hums and withdraws, laying his arms around Clint and inspecting the plushies in his lap.  
  
"Sorry for outing you." Clint says with an apologetic tilt of his head. He hooks his fingers into Bucky's belt loops and scratches at the coarse denim. "It just kind of happened and I rolled with it."  
  
"It's alright." Bucky says.

With his past flings he wouldn't have believed that, would have spent days picking apart their face and their tone of voice looking for the truth. But Bucky is all unflinching honesty and patient smiles. Grappling with how to thank him for that, Clint fidgets and twists his lip.  
  
"I brought pizza." Bucky says.  
  
"I fucking love you." Clint grins. "Tell me you got wings."  
  
"I got wings." Bucky nods. "And lava cakes."  
  
Clint climbs over the sofa and dashes for the counter, pulling Bucky behind him. Maybe he's not a super soldier or a god or a genius, but fuck all of them. None of them have an amazing, sexy boyfriend who likes junk food and garbage television.   
  
Tony can keep the wannabe activists and Steve can have the horny teen girls. He has the real fans, the ones who struggle to get out of bed, who are drowning in medical bills and still find five bucks to give to charity. He loves every single one of them, even the creepy ones and the ones who obviously don't understand social ques.

The world needs average joes. It needs plumbers and electricians and nurses. And thanks to Bucky he's starting to value that in himself. He's a normal dude, but he's just as capable of defending Earth. He's an Avenger, goddammit, and he pulls his weight.

Still holding the dolls to his chest, he swipes a steaming slice of four cheese and salivates over the beautiful, shiny strings that drip off like liquid gold.  
  
"Happy Clint-mas." Bucky quips, biting into his own slice.  
  
"To me." Clint replies, raising his pizza in a toast. So ridiculously happy.  
  
"To you." Bucky agrees.


End file.
